Mr. Matthew Arnold as Critic and Poet: (Read Before the Liverpool Philomathic Society, 30th January, 1878).

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Marples, 1879 - 29 pages

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Page 19 - Who fluctuate idly without term or scope, Of whom each strives, nor knows for what he strives, And each half lives a hundred different lives; Who wait like thee, but not, like thee in hope. Thou waitest for the spark from Heaven...
Page 26 - A bolt is shot back somewhere in our breast, And a lost pulse of feeling stirs again. The eye sinks inward, and the heart lies plain, And what we mean, we say, and what we would, we know.
Page 29 - But now I only hear Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar, Retreating, to the breath Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear And naked shingles of the world.
Page 13 - The grand power of poetry is its interpretative power ; by which I mean, not a power of drawing out in black and white an explanation of the mystery of the universe, but the power of so dealing with things as to awaken in us a wonderfully full, new, and intimate sense of them, and of our relations with them.
Page 13 - When this sense is awakened in us, as to objects without us, we feel ourselves to be in contact with the essential nature of those objects, to be no longer bewildered and oppressed by them, but to have their secret, and to be in harmony with them ; and this feeling calms and satisfies us as no other can.
Page 14 - I have said that poetry interprets in two ways; it interprets by expressing with magical felicity the physiognomy and movement of the outward world, and it interprets by expressing, with inspired conviction, the ideas and laws of the inward world of man's in.] MAURICE DB GU&UN. Ill moral and spiritual nature.
Page 16 - If his rebellion against fact has thus lamed the Celt even in spiritual work, how much more must it have lamed him in the world of business and politics! The skilful and resolute appliance of means to ends which is needed both to make progress in material civilisation, and also to form powerful states, is just what the Celt has least turn for.
Page 28 - The glow, he cries, the thrill of life, Where, where do these abound? — Not in the world, not in the strife Of men, shall they be found. He who hath watch'd, not shared, the strife, Knows how the day hath gone. He only lives with the world's life, Who hath renounced his own.
Page 29 - Achilles ponders in his tent, The kings of modern thought are dumb; Silent they are, though not content, And wait to see the future come. They have the grief men had of yore, But they contend and cry no more.

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